Lies in Ashes
by Amanda9
Summary: From the beginning: As Mrs.Lovett lived it. Prequel
1. Part One

**Title: **_**Lies in Ashes  
**_**By: **Amanda  
**Feedback:** sweety167yahoo.ca  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that sprang from the mind of Stephen Sondheim et all. And I make no profit.  
**Spoilers: **Movie  
**Continuity:** Prequel  
**Summary: **From the beginning: As Mrs. Lovett lived it. (Prequel)  
**Completed: **February 23-25, 2008  
**Notes:** I've been a Sweeney fan long before Johnny picked the razors, but it was Helena that inspired me to pick up my pen.  
Written in the movieverse, but a keen eye should catch some nods to Broadway and In Concert.

* * *

**PART ONE **

If it hadn't been for the baby's wailing, I never would have seen it. So much for the better maybe. But life deals you what it must. Life teaches you what it must. Can't go around forever with your head in the clouds and no concept of what's real, and nasty. I'd say Mrs. Barker taught me that. Showed me that.

The baby had been crying for what seemed like hours, and Albert didn't lose one wink of sleep. But I couldn't go on ignoring it. Truth be told, I wasn't sleeping much in those few months when Benjamin Barker was shipped off. Seemed like something was missing it did. Something was wrong.

I slipped from bed – not that Albert would have noticed – and made my way to the room upstairs. I thought it was only a heap of waste. Someone's discarded clothes or some nonsense; people were always tossing trash out there on the stairs. That is what I thought, until I saw those golden curls peeking out.

Lucy. Mrs. Lucy Barker. Rumbled at the bottom of the steps as little Johanna cried from the top.

I sighed. For all I knew she was dead. Taken a nasty slip or something. And I'd seen Beadle Bamford poking around earlier. But I've never been one to go poking around in other people's business myself. Didn't think much of it at the time. But looking back, well…  
"Mrs. Barker," I nudged her with my slippered foot.

When she moved the stench of gin waved up off of her. As if someone had soaked her in it. And from the gargled moan of protest, I'd say she managed to ingest some too. Poor thing had no head for the stuff.

"Oh lordy me," I crouched down to help her up, "Best get you inside before you catch your death." That's when I saw it, dress all torn and spotty. You see some of the women around like that, lurking in darkened corners. I sighed, "You really do trust men too easily Mrs. Barker." I put her arm around my shoulders and helped her up the stairs. Not such an easy feat without co-operation.

I eased her onto the small settee in the corner, where she curled up again into a smaller, tighter ball. She's taken to living up here in the shop once Mr. Barker was taken – only place that was paid up I'd imagine. Familiar maybe too. Always felt closer to Mr. B up here, even when he wasn't about. This was his.

It was obvious Lucy would be of no use to me at that moment, so I set out to do what I had come up to do; tend to the baby. After so many hours of objection little Johanna had given up. So much like her mother. Her cheeks were flushed a gentle pink and her hair so blonde it was almost white. A living cherub in the cradle she was. Precious thing.

I wrapped her in one of her woollen blankets and cradled her little body to my chest. I never had children myself, seemed the good lord didn't see it fit to bless me with them, but I have tended to a few in my years. Even held Johanna before – in a moment of blissful chaos Mr. Barker had handed her over to me when she was born. So small, so warm and so trusting. Blessed little baby.

Looking around the room, I couldn't see one drop to help me out. I was sure there was still some milk down in my shop that I could heat up for the child. She had to be starved.

"I'm just gonna take Johanna down for a bit to eat, dearie," I told the unmoving lump of Lucy, but received no reply. I fear she may have started to go simple then. Didn't seem to care much what I did. Or where I took her child. Pity.

I managed to start feeding the babe before Albert came waddling out from bed.

"What's all this?" he squinted at me. What a sight; me holding a baby on my lap with a saucer of warmed milk nestled into one of the booths. I was carefully spooning the liquid into her greedy mouth. Went to bed childless and awoke to a baby.

"Mrs. Barker had a run of fright last night," I looked up toward the barbershop.

He grunted, scratching at his backside, "Where's breakfast?"

"After I finish tending to Johanna," I bounced my knee slightly; Albert always was horrible with names, "I'll see to you."

"Hmm," he grumbled, "just be sure you take it back up to its mother."

"Right," I gave him a toothy grin. Maybe Albert was the reason the good lord never blessed me with a child.

I was sure to burn his eggs later.

It was the oddest thing when I went back upstairs after breakfast with Johanna; the place was empty. Not a sign of Lucy. I wasn't sure if that was good news or not. Could go either way really. Where would a mother run off to without their child?

I put the baby back in her cradle, but didn't have the heart to leave her by her lonesome; it was still early, and a Sunday. No one ever comes by the shop until after service, and it's only ale they're after then anyway. No reason to rush myself.

Should have seen the place though, covered in dried out and dying flowers. Mounds of them. And the stench was overbearing. Seemed Judge Turpin didn't know how to keep his appreciation secret if the few cards were anything to go by. Pity though, it could have been the best thing for a husband-less mother. Practical at least.

But now, who knew how the little family would end up. From the condition I'd found Lucy in, I'd say the Judge was done courting her - but that was gossip. The world wouldn't look too kindly on her now. Poor thing. What's a woman to do alone with a baby? Not much hope for her really.

I wondered what Albert would think letting them stay on upstairs. Surely a pretty thing like Lucy could be useful around – once she shook off the shock of course. And it'd be nice to have a child around, watch her grow. We could feel like a real family. And still be close to Mr. Barker. They could, of course.

I ment to mention that later after a good, hearty meal. He was always more agreeable once he was full.

Oh, and the room was still very much Mr. Barker's. Tools of his trade covered every surface, even under those dying flowers. You could almost expect him to come waltzing through the door. But that wasn't about to happen anytime soon. It would have been a treat though, to have him grace the doorway again. Like the old days, the bright days.

But surely, those days had gone now.

Seemed more likely to have ghost move in than to have Mr. Barker home.

And what of Mrs. Barker? What if she had fled? Gone forever. Leaving poor Johanna here alone. What would become of the girl? Her auntie Nellie would take care of her. Sure I would. Been happy to. Least I could do for the Barkers really.

For Benjamin.

Seemed silly to think of him as _Mr._ Barker if I was going to be tending to his precious child then. Practically family we would be.

I supposed that put me in charge of all his affairs; would have to take care of his things. Care for them as if they were my own. Treasure them I would.

And that's when I spied it, the big oak box. Benjamin's most prized procession, beyond Johanna of course, his straight razors. Half covered by Lucy's flowers as if they were forgotten. Oh, but who could forget such beauty? I opened the lid – six shinning silver blades sparkled back at me. As if I'd discovered some hidden treasures. And I had. Rediscovered them as it were.

They all lay at the ready, waiting their master's return. Their master's touch.

Far as I knew, Benjamin never let anyone touch his razors. They were always far too sharp and far too polished for inexperienced hands. I reached to feel the cool metal of one of the carved handles, and the shop door swung open. I jumped so high I nearly dropped the case.

It was only the boy, Danny. A small lad Benjamin had hired to help him out around the shop. Not that he needed the help really. I think he just saw someone who needed the job. Sweet man Benjamin was. But I hadn't seen the child around. Curious.

The boy's eyes were wide and wild. "Is it true then?" his eyes darted around the room, and I barely had an idea what he was so worked up about. "Mr. Barker! Was he really sent away?" the boy was so wiry and jumpy, but something about him told me he was always thinking, planning, "Botany Bay and everything?"

I gave him a sad smile and nodded my head; "I'm afraid so dearie."

He nodded, his eyes doing another sweep of the room before landing on the razors. "Guess I won't be getting' my shilling this month then…"

I snapped the lid shut, blocking them from his greedy eyes. That was his game then! I'd have none of it.

"We'll see to your troubles," I reached for my change purse, mostly empty. Only a shilling or two, a few pence and some toffees. I knew there was no way he made a shilling off of Mr. Barker, but I figured he wasn't about to make anymore from the barbershop either, so I handed him one of the coins.

"Thank you ma'am, a real Christian you are," he rubbed the coin between his fingers.

"You best be off then, eh?" I tried the politest way I could think of to kick him out. Didn't want anyone poking about as if they were picking over a corpse. Benjamin may have been gone from England, but he wasn't dead. Never in my mind would he be.

Danny nodded, but held such a look in his eye. That boy would grow up to be trouble, you could just see it.

Oh, but his visit was useful. Told me I had to go about caring for Mr. Barker's things sooner rather than later. Starting with those razors.

I could have holed them away in the bake house, or somewhere in the pie shop. But truth be told, I didn't trust Albert not to find them. And the moment he did, he'd sell them. A pretty penny's all he'd see.

No. It would be best to keep them where they belonged. In the room upstairs. And no one would go looking for them where they belonged. People don't think like that, not around here. But the question was where… I remembered the loose floorboard by the window. Albert never would get around to fixing it, and I could hide a world of treasures under there. If the need ever came.

"A secret between you and I Johanna," I smiled over at the napping infant as I wrapped the heavy oak box in one of the barber cloths. I tucked it away as safely as I had the baby in her crib. And no one would be the wiser. There they could wait for their master to return.

And in all that time there was no sign of Mrs. Barker.

An uneasy feeling crept up the pit of my stomach. Was I to go after her too? Her being one of Mr. Barker's treasure. Or maybe now, one of his ends to be tied.

Foolishness.

I had more important things to tend to.

There I was in the shop; Baby resting on my hip as I puttered around. I won't deny it felt like the most natural thing in the world, even if the sweet child wasn't my own. She was as good as now. Far as I saw it.

It made me normal to have a child.

It warmed my heart to see the way customers would smile at me with child too. Brightened up the whole shop it did. Until Mrs. Mooney came in that was.

"Ah, what a sweet child," she crooked a long finger toward the child's chin, "Looks so much like the Barker's baby." She turned her stern eyes on me.

Seemed to turn everyone's eyes on me.

"She is," I kept my head held high, no reason to bend down to the silly woman's judgement. "Mrs. Barker took off with a fever, and I'm tending to the girl until she's well." So easy it was, to come up with white lies to cover the many misdeeds making a muck around.

"Oh, did she then," Mrs. Mooney replied with her wicked smile. Good for nothing but gossip and dried out pies she was. "Let's hope good luck offers its fortune," with a curt nod of her head, she and her kind left. Mindless busybodies! And I'd have no use for any of them.

But it did raise questions. How would I go about explaining Johanna? Or Lucy, if she returned. And what would I tell Johanna of her parentage, when the time came? So many questions, and so quickly they came.

The thoughts must have plagued me; the next thing I remembered hours had passed.

"Nellie!" Albert's strong voice had stung me.

I stared back at him with wide eyes, "Sorry luv, my mind must have gotten away from me."

He made the gravely sound of disappointment in the back of his throat, over the years of marriage I'd grown accustomed to it, almost expected it. "What's that doing here?" he pointed to the sack of flour in the corner. It looked as if I had rested Johanna down there for her nap. She looked so content there, nestled between the sacks of flour. Such a beautiful sight.

"What's that doing down here?" Albert sneered. "I told you I didn't want it down here."

I kept myself busy at the counter to avoid his eyes; "Mrs. Barker's still…not well."

He shrugged, "Women's problems." The all encompassing malady infecting the world, according to Albert. But he didn't know a drop of what we suffered. Nor what we lived with. He never gave a thought as to what it ment to be a woman.

"Take it up to its mother," he instructed again.

"Lucy's not up there," I said quietly, chancing a sideways glance at my husband, gauging his reaction, "Can't leave a child alone."

"Can't have it down here. It's cursed!" He looked at Johanna as if she were vermin. Though, I never say him look at a rat like that. He almost seemed to fear the tiny being.

I rushed to the child's defence, scooping her up in my arms, "How could you say such a thing? She's a beautiful baby."

"Father set off. Mother gone ill. I'd say that's a curse. That girl'll bring nothing but ill will to the home she darkens. Mark my words. And I refuse to have her here."

"I refuse to leave her alone," It was the first time I ever refused my husband.

"Fine," he turned, calm as could be, "Upstairs with the both of you."

"Albert?" a nervous laugh broke from between my lips. Could he send me away as easy as all that?

"Go Nellie. Sleep with your shadows."

And off he went to bed.

----


	2. Part Two

**PART TWO **

The room upstairs was much different at night.

Even with the large window it missed the moonlight. Or the moon managed to miss it. It was deadly quiet too, as if you're all alone in the world. Not a soul to save you.

Pretty little Johanna wasn't much company, curled up and sleeping as she was. I had given up my warm marital bed for her, but she paid no mind to me. Offered no comfort at all. Not that I blamed the child. She didn't know me well enough yet to understand. She would though, that I was sure of.

Ah. The silent dark can play tricks on you, it can. It does. It did.

I could have sworn I saw none other than Benjamin Barker standing by the corner, watching me sleep on the settee, in the place of his wife. His eyes burrowing into me, telling me something beyond this world. It wasn't of course, just a spare shirt on a hook, awaiting its call to duty. But the vision was so fresh, I swore it breathed life into the room. I had to hold the shirt in my own hands to know what was an apparition. It was like having Benjamin slip through my fingers.

Oh, but I could smell him. The scent hidden behind the bay rum, fragrant pomade and stale cologne that stained the room. Something that unmistakably spoke of Benjamin. Like he was there with me. Lingering around. It was something I realised I missed. It was such a comfort to feel him around though. Silly, I know, but I didn't feel so alone while I held on to his shirt. Imagine, a simple scrap of cotton!

I've always been a woman of little comforts, and the smallest embrace was all I ever needed. It's what I craved.

I must confess; I slipped on his shirt. Feel silly about it now, but the dark plays nasty games on you, seeps into your mind it does. But the soft brush of his shirt on my skin helped. Wrapped me up safe enough to sleep. Protected me too.

That Mr. Barker: such a man.

But the rest was short lived. It weighed heavy on me, nagged at me. Prevented me from staying in that blissful state of slumber. Something did. As if it were staring right down into my soul.

When I opened my eyes I found that it was Lucy. Standing over me she was, just staring. A ghost in the night. If the living could haunt a place, that's what she was doing.

"Thank heavens dear," I slowly sat up, "I was frightfully worried. Been up half the night."

She just continued to stare, all ragged and wasted. Wherever she had been, she hadn't bothered to clean herself up. It was disturbing. I hugged my arms around myself to fight off the cold chill of her eyes – and I realised, I was still wrapped in Benjamin's shirt. Oh, what a sight it must have been. Finding me curled up in her husband's clothes. Caring for her daughter too. Imagine the wrong idea.

"It gets deathly cold up here at night, doesn't it?" I slipped the shirt off my shoulders and laid it on the seat beside me. I missed the embrace immediately. I couldn't fight the chill now. Couldn't miss the broken look in her eyes.

I leapt to my feet, had to move around. I couldn't stand being struck by Lucy's stare like that. "You must be starved then, let me fix you up something to eat down in the shop, eh? 'Fraid there's no milk though. That little Johanna can sure eat. It's good to see such a healthy appetite in a child. Sleepin' like an angel now – not a care in the world she has. There'll be time enough for that…" I shivered. How could anyone stand the cold like that? And Lucy in only that tattered dress now.

"You must be cold to the bone…here," I picked up one of the barber's sheets and moved to wrap it around her. Offer comfort of a sort.

The look of terror and hate that flashed in her eyes I'll never forget. And the gargled screech could have woken the dead. She pushed me away with a strength I'd imagine she never had before. Oh, but she sure used it on me.

I took the slap in the face as it was, dropping the sheet to the floor. Let her freeze then!

I stormed down the stairs, but I wasn't all that sure why I was so angry. Mrs. Barker had come back at least, shouldn't that have elated me? I should have been glad that Johanna had her mother again. That the woman could deal with her own problems now. But I wasn't.

"Didn't sleep well now?" Albert chuckled at me. Idiotic man. He had no idea what was going on in my head, not even under his roof.

I scoffed, "And it does me no good to have Mrs. Mooney poking around asking questions no one wants to hear the answers to. Only trying to help, I am. Not even a note of thanks," I dumped flour and water together, not watching what I was doing, nor was I caring. "If Turpin had kept his hands to himself none of this would have happened. I tell you that," I slammed the crust dough down hard onto the counter. A small gust of flour flew up in a ghostly cloud.

"Judge Turpin you say?" Albert leaned on the counter. That peaked his interest. He always listened to my chatter with mild interest – I was entertaining he said – but now I was running off at the mouth. Telling things that weren't my business.

"If it wasn't for him I wouldn't be fretting about worrying about that baby all day, and her daft mother," I was working the crust into a frenzy. Dried out and flaking. Wasted it was. "Sends Mr. Barker away, than goes about taking what he wants from Mrs. Barker – leaving her in the sorry state she's in now."

I tossed the wasted concoction to the side and caught Albert's twisted smile. The wheels in his head were spinning to life.

"Clean yourself up pretty," he barked at me, "You've got to go fetch the Beadle. Tell him it's something important. Something of civic pride- yes! He must take a meeting with me right away. A friendly chat."

Didn't trust that at all. The look on Albert's bloated face was unnerving. But he was my husband – I brushed the flour off my dress and set off for the Beadle.

And I found him making eyes at the young women peddling apples at the market. It made my stomach turn to think about it: What fate was in store for those pretty little things if they looked back his way? And what if they didn't? With the company he'd kept, there was no telling what girls would know the same suffering as Lucy.

Oh, but I gave him my best smile, and wrapped my hand around his arm with the softest caress. Without him knowing why, I brought him home to Albert. A dutiful wife indeed.

The bell above the door jingled and Albert was there, waiting.

"Good of you to visit," Albert greeted him with a slimy smile, not even noticing as I followed the man through the door.  
"Always take invitations from my neighbours," the Beadle tipped his head, clearly unsure as to why he had been summoned to one of Fleet Street's many pie shops.  
"Friends Beadle, friends." He dropped one of his meaty arms over the Beadle's equally meaty shoulder. "Come in, sit. Sit," Albert motioned for the Beadle to slip into one of the booths, "Some rum sir? Or a drop of ale?" I hadn't seen Albert fuss over someone this much since he wooed my mother into letting us marry. Even then he had that twitching, twisted smile that warned you of his secret plans.

Beadle rested his hat on the table; "A nice spot of rum would be most welcoming." His smile was crooked. His whole manner was crooked.

Albert turned to me as if I had just arrived to serve some purpose, "Rum for the man Nellie. Run."

I ducked into the parlour, snatching up Albert's private bottle and two of the better glasses. I was back before Albert had a chance to squeeze himself in opposite his guest.

"I'm sure you heard that awful news about Mr. Barker. Imagine, a criminal right under my very own roof, and I was never the wiser," he was studying the other man, "And now it seems his poor wife – pretty little thing that she is – has fallen into a spot of trouble herself."

I went about pouring their glasses. Though, I had a bit of a problem getting it all into Albert's glass and managed to drop some on his lap. Seemed all of London was taken by Lucy's pretty face. I tossed the rag at him, leaving him to clean up his own mess.

He used the rag to mop up the spill, never once breaking his concentration from the matter at hand. "We'd be pleased to take care of the baby and all, but people would ask too many questions. Seeing as we've never been blessed. That Mrs. Mooney's been around already, poking her nose in, asking questions about the girl. About her mother. And it's such a sad tale really. Tragic almost. Poor Lucy Barker, consumed as it were. Swayed and wooed." Albert eyed the Beadle, watching his beety little eyes twitch and dance around the room, "And my wife here, too simple to lie. She's let slip – the whole sad tale. All of Fleet Street would know. Soon, all of London. And that couldn't look too kindly on our friend Judge Turpin. We've got to look out for our friends, don't we Beadle?"

The Beadle cleared his throat, a nervous habit. "I see. Yes. We must look out for each other." He eyed me up and down good. Seemed he didn't trust Albert's opinion of me as simple – not that he should. "Maybe we should discuss this among men? No need to trouble her mind with any other unfortunate details."

Albert's smile only grew, "Quite right. Nellie! Upstairs with ya."

I excused myself. Not nearly happy to do so. Imagine the nerve calling me simple! And only for spilling at bit of rum… But their voices did carry, loud booming men that they were. Albert was only too eager to pawn the child off, get her out of his hair and out of his house. But a price needed to be paid if they wanted Albert to keep quiet about the whole mess. That he made perfectly clear.  
"No need for anyone beyond us lot to know about all this. And no need for me to ever pay another drop of rent, eh? Knowing what I do could surely cost the Judge more." Albert always had a crafty skill for money. Skill and a curse I suppose. But the whole business made me sick, it did. I couldn't stand to hear any more. Couldn't stand it at all.

I burst into the barbershop. Lucy had herself curled on the settee again as if she wished it would swallow her, and if she wasn't careful, it would. Or worse.

"Get yourself up! A fate worse than death is about to happen to you. Those _sweet_ men are about trading you like cattle. And poor little Johanna," I cooed at the baby, "Benjamin's sweet child." I no longer cared about addressing Mr. Barker in such a formal way in front of his wife, as far as I was concerned she was no body's wife anymore. I turned back to see Lucy still hadn't moved, "You can't go around doing nothing. They'll walk all over you they will. Being pretty isn't enough if you aren't willing to do something about it. You've got to survive with more than that pretty face. All it's done is got you into trouble." There was so much frustration and anger in me: Men and women treating us like we were nothing. As if we weren't worth something. I'd show them. Come hell or high water, they'd learn not to underestimate Nellie Lovett! I was sure I'd show them all what a little wife could do…

"You have to do something! Anything! It won't do for you to just lay around and let them do what they please with you. Again. If they do it once, they'll do it again they will," I sighed, feeling so very heavy and tired, "Sometimes you've got to do things you wouldn't normally do dearie."

I watched a scene unfold on the street below. My darling Albert was shaking hands with the Beadle. A deal with the devil it was. Who knows what trade they had gone and made finally, and to protect a vulture like Judge Turpin. Men could get away with murder and no one would bat an eye, but a woman…

The settee shifted and Lucy made a small choking sound. I turned to her, catching my foot on a small glass vile. "What'ca do there?" I bent to pick up the bottle: Arsenic. So that's where she took off to for the day. "Why'd you go and do that for?"

I rushed over to her side, cradling her head against my shoulder. She shook slightly, and twitched "Oh, you silly woman," I stroked her pale yellow curls, waiting for her to still. Waiting for the calm she had expected to find at the bottom of her little bottle.

Ah, but it never came. Her eyes glazed over, and her cheeks became clammy, but her head burned and her heart kept beating. Who knows what she had gone and done to herself. She doubled over and mewed in pain like some alley cat. Gagging a little. I could only watch her, changing from the pretty little thing she was into something else. Something that was no longer gentle and soft and pretty. She was hard and jagged and ugly. What had she expected that to fix? Killing herself would still leave Johanna. Sad state to think that was the only way out. But she couldn't even manage that.

And now what? Who knew when the Beadle would be back for the baby, or what they would do with Lucy. What was there to do with Lucy? Hospital would only raise more questions. But what would it do for anyone to find her like this, with her arsenic bottle friend? No. No one should know about the poor woman's desperation. Gossip it would only be. I slipped the vile into the pocket of my apron. Waste not, want not. Or something.

----


	3. Part Three

**PART THREE**

It wasn't even a commotion. You'd think, coming for a child would cause a bit of commotion, would be something of notice. But it wasn't. The Beadle came into the shop, tipped his hat at Albert and I was sent to get the child ready. I don't even think the two men exchanged money. Not ever a word really. What did that say about the state London was going in; when two men traded a girl as if she were spice? We were going to hell. The whole country. Damned.

I went up to the former barbershop, and the worst part of it, I was calm as can be. What was there for me to do? I had no claim to the child, and Lucy wasn't about to protest. She'd taken to sleeping all day, and pacing all night. Sometimes I could hear her, muttering and sputtering about something, but lord knew what. She was a sorry state. A mess. Nothing at all the woman Benjamin had left behind. And at the time, passed out, she was curled up in the corner. I learned how to ignore her, as if she was nothing but a piece of furniture. Something the last tenant forgot. Everyone ignored her. It was the only thing to do.

Johanna rested, so unaware, in the opposite corner. Bundled up in blankets and sunshine. Such a sweet sight. Benjamin's baby girl, about to become the property of another man. Heartbreaking. But there had to be something to mark her with the life she was being sold out of.

I carefully slipped my reticule from my pocket and emptied it of the two shillings and toffee. Those I would need, the purse I could do without. I tucked the small-netted purse in between the folds of Johanna's blanket as I wrapped her up. At the very least, I wanted her to know that somewhere, once, there was a woman who cared for her. Maybe, even a mother. That made me smile. Some small token from the life she was originally part of. I was sure that if Lucy were in her right mind she would have wanted the same for her daughter… Ah, but if Lucy were in her right mind we wouldn't have been dealing in this dreadful business in the first place. Who poisons themselves with a bity baby to care for? Oh, but I felt sure that one day Benjamin would return the favour. Silly, I knew.

I lifted her carefully out of the only bed she had ever known, and with the small link to her roots, I handed baby Johanna over to Beadle Bamford.

It was obvious that the Beadle had never held a baby. He had his arms in awkward angles and struggled to keep her calm. I'd imagine the Judge would have sent a carriage to collect his new prize, but who knew. I didn't dare look out. Didn't want to know anymore of it.

"You can dispose of the belongings anyway you see fit. Should you need the money," he juggled Johanna in his arms, the few blankets she was wrapped in shifted around but everything stayed together.

Albert smirked, holding open the door; "With friends like Judge Turpin and yourself I couldn't imagine being in need of a thing from now on."

The Beadle gave my husband a curt nod, a knowing nod. Ah, so that was it then. The poor child had been traded for finances, an open tab. Of the many things one could say about Albert, you could never deny he was shrewd. Heartless maybe, seeing as he had no qualms prostituting out someone else's daughter, but always with a head for business.

On his way out the Beadle stopped, and for the first time he looked up to meet my eyes. I wonder what he saw when he looked at me now, would he remember this baker if we ever crossed paths again? Did I make him feel the least bit of shame for his dealings? I'd never know.

"Perhaps ma'am, I should send someone by from Bedlum for the Misses?" He turned back to Albert; purposely avoiding the nest Lucy had made for herself, "So she won't be a bother."

"No!" I all but jumped at the men. I couldn't imagine what Benjamin would think if I let these men drag his wife off as well. Even if she was simple as a dormouse now, and of no use. "I mean, why cause a scene? Having white coats running all over the pie shop. I'll take her. I'll walk her there myself," I offered them a stretched smile, and it appeased them. Neither of them cared what happened to poor Lucy now, just as long as she was out of their way.

The Beadle nodded, and Albert only shrugged before they disappeared out the door. Lucy Barker would be the cross I had to bear. I would take that much onto myself.

I waited for nightfall, the dark to cover all our sins, before I roused Lucy. It was a long enough walk to Bedlum, to those tall asylum walls. What was there left for her outside those walls? She had no husband, no child. And no mind. And it wasn't all that long ago she wished to have no life as well. It was a choice Lucy herself had set herself up for. I was just finishing the job.

I wrapped an old shawl around her shoulders, tucked Johanna's doll in her cradled arms and marched her down Fleet street. Saddest sight I ever did see. And not once did she ask me where we were headed. Not once did she ever ask about Johanna. Not once did she shed a tear. She only hummed some sad little tune that sounded like a lullaby, but too much like a funeral march. Didn't seem to care one bit for what was going on around her. She'd checked out of life, and was trapped in a new one. Something in her head.  
"You'll get what you need dearie," I held her steady with a hand on her elbow and offered her fake smiles. She seemed content enough with those. Seemed as though she had not a care in this world. Should we all be as lucky.

Would Benjamin be as content with the fate for his family? A broken woman and sold daughter. He should never learn of this. Never learn of the pathetic state his once precious Lucy dropped herself into. I never would. Never would tell him of such a thing. There'd be no reason for it. Nothing but added heartache and tragedy. No one should have to suffer that knowledge.

I stopped Lucy in front of the large, stone entrance. Her eyes wild and crazed under the calm twist of her mouth. But she didn't see a thing that was of this world. She wasn't Lucy Barker anymore. That woman had died. She died the moment that glass vile touched her lips. Or the moment Judge Turpin had touched her. Either way, that woman was long gone leaving this mess in her wake.

"Listen to me," I tried to make her look at me, acknowledge that I was there at all, "I'll never tell him. He'll never know what mess you're in now. It'd be better that you died, not carried on in such a way." I was sure I saw some flicker of recognition in her glass eyes. She had to know who _he_ was. She had to know. Not even arsenic could erase a man like Benjamin Barker from your mind. Or maybe it would do her better if it had.

I rang the large iron bell hanging over the asylum's door. It echoed like a dying voice, bellowed. Soon, a small man in a white jacket came out. He looked the pair of us over as if we were both offerings for his strange appetites.

"Something from Judge Turpin," I passed Lucy forward. I knew it was a dangerous thing to say, but I couldn't resist. There was no other reason she was there. Nothing beyond the Judge and her own stupidity. And I didn't have the funds to commit her.

The man, Fogg I believe, pulled her inside. He didn't much care who she was, or where she came from. Though, I didn't wish to know what he cared about. Or for, for that matter. Sad state.

As the doors closed, Lucy reached forward, her eyes narrowed at me, she recognised me, "You!" Her voice croaked with the only word I'd been able to make out from this new version of her. And the latch clicked.

Cursed. That's what she was then. Only making a last effort for something. Or something. I never told her to do it. Never told her to seek the cold embrace of death from poison, or search for the purgatory from taking her own life. She never did listen to me.

There's no way that twisted mind could remember a poor baker woman. No reason to either.

It rained the whole way home. Seemed the angels were crying to wash away our sins. Or all damnation was falling from the skies to punish us. London never would be the same after that. I could never look at it the same. I found myself wondering what it was like in Australia. Would it be raining there like it was here? Would Benjamin be looking up at the same sky?

I came back to the shop, soaked to the bones, and I knew a fever was seeping itself into my mind. What else would explain the ragged sobs I now let rack my body? Or the light-headedness that made my knees buckle?

"There, there Nellie," Albert offered a cold comfort, his paw like hand guiding me to sit in front of the fire, "Silly woman. It's for the best it is. No reason to be down. She'll have better than anyone can provided around here. Best to forget all this nasty business of the Barkers too. Nothing but wasted trouble they were. Cursed I'd say. Best thing for her. Get that into your head Nellie."

Better off? Was she? Trapped behind those walls in her broken mind. A broken family. I looked up at him with wide, begging eyes – my husband, the man I swore to love for my whole life – I needed to know what was done was right. A sorry thing I must have looked.

"Better to have that mess out of our way," he gave a curt nod, "And you'd better dry up…leaving wet all over the floor. We've got to pawn off the rest of their junk from upstairs." That was the end of his worry than. Nothing at all for the young family that had fallen apart under our roof.

If a man like Albert could so easily trade other people's lives away, what would stop him from trading mine? Sometimes you've got to do things you wouldn't normally do. You've got to be strong and learn to do things for yourself. Don't want to end up half crazed and locked up without a will of your own. Must have more brains than that.

I patted my pocket, feeling the arsenic bottle press itself against my thigh.

One never does know.

A woman alone might not be so bad.

**END**


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